


Oh Good Lord

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Confessions, Dubious Consent, Episode 3 "Hard Times" if you catch my drift, First Kiss, M/M, Mild BDSM, Missing Scene, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: Missing scene in which Aziraphale purposefully gets himself thrown in the Bastille so that Crowley will show up to rescue him. Crowley realizes it and immediately decides to have some fun with Aziraphale while he's still tied up in shackles.Kinda/sorta/Not really non-con. But the sexual torture aspect might trigger some folks. Aziraphale says no but means yes type of situation.This was written for fun, and because I can't stand the way Michael Sheen gives David Tennant the once over and says "oh good lord" upon whirling around to see him when he appears to rescue him. That face he makes is my undoing.





	Oh Good Lord

**Author's Note:**

> I warmly dedicate this smut to the lovely people of the Ineffable Husbands Facebook group. You guys are the best, sweetest most creative people, and I am so glad to have found a bunch of other Good Omen's obsessed folks to join me in my constant shipping of Crowley and Aziraphale.

Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowely for probably a hundred years and he was starting to itch. He and the demon were apparently moving in different circles lately. They’d worked out a deal at the Globe Theater over the trip to Scotland in exchange for a full house for Shakespear’s performance of Hamlet. But since then, not a word. 

Aziraphale missed Crowley. He hated to admit it, but he always enjoyed their little tet a tets through the centuries, even the short ones. Even the ones where they exchanged no more than irritable barbs and stormed off in opposite directions. Aziraphale knew that he wasn’t supposed to even be consorting with the demon, let alone meeting him semi-regularly to conspire against their respective employers.. But… it had just sort of happened. An uneasy but enjoyable (and definitely unspoken) friendship had slowly developed between them, and it grew deeper and warmer with each passing millennium. 

There were always times when Crowley would disappear, where Aziraphale couldn’t find him for years on end that stretched out in a lonely fashion, while the angel read and dined at fancy restaurants and carried on tentative friendships with random humans. None of these friendships however seemed to reach close to the level of the thrilling connection he experienced with Crowley. The years between meetings were growing lonelier and lonelier, even as the spaces between meetings were admittedly growing shorter. 

He’d never let Crowley know of his feelings however. It would be unwise to do so. If his superiors, stuffy, insufferable Gabriel and his corporate minions found out he’d been  _ fraternizing _ with a demon, especially one as infamous as Crowley…. Well, there’d be possibly literal hell to pay. Aziraphale didn’t want to do anything to shake the delicate balance he’d struck up with Crowley. They had their Agreement, and they had their little meetings, precious and thrilling and always too short. And what of it if his heart beat more quickly when he saw the demon in a crowd? What of it if he felt his body burn with tingling passion whenever Crowley stood too close to him? It couldn’t be helped. But it could definitely be hidden. 

He'd hatched up with the plot to bring Crowley closer again almost by accident. He'd cast his mind back to the times the demon had shown up in the past. Always unannounced, but always around some sort of important historical incident. Or when Aziraphale needed his help or his counsel somehow. 

The exile of Adam and Eve from the garden for example. Aziraphale had given the young couple his flaming sword for protection and had been beating himself up with insecurity and anxiety over whether it had been a good decision. And then up slithered Crowely, materializing beside him. One minute a large, black serpent, the next moment a beautiful, slender man with curling red tresses and bewitching yellow and black eyes, draped in black robes. He’d been companionable and helpful from the very start. When it had started raining, for the very first time, Azirphale had felt immediately protective of this beautiful, dark creature with flaming hair. He’d lifted his wing so that Crowley (Crawley back then) could step closer and shelter under it. Even then, at their very first meeting, Aziraphale had felt himself tingle at the demon’s proximity. 

The other times as well. As he stood in the corral, waiting for all those creatures to march onto the ark two by two. Lonely Aziraphale, nervously fretting and wringing his hands, and then along came Crowley, beautiful hair braided and flowing, face, open and inquisitive. Aziraphale had watched how the news of the great flood had struck the demon. How his mood had soured.  _ Maybe he has a heart after all?  _ He’d remembered thinking upon witnessing the demon's concern. Before Crowley had walked up to the angle, it had been Noah and Naameh, along with thousands of species of animals, all with their mates. Everyone in pairs as far as the eye could see, leaving only Aziraphale standing alone. Then, all of a sudden, Crowley had been at his side again. He’d felt comforted by the odd pairing of the demon and himself. 

So it was only natural that he’d come up with a sort of unintended, subconscious, not-really-a-plan-at-all plan to perhaps entice the demon to come to him again. Wasn’t it? Perfectly natural. Perfectly normal. Not devious at all. Barely even conscious really. He knew there were some very dangerous things happening in France. Nobles and aristocrats and the like being murdered over some stupid political struggle. What if he were to develop a sudden craving for some fresh French crepes. The kind filled with chocolate. Why there’d be no harm in taking a quick trip over to Paris to pick some up. And what if he were to wear his fanciest, finest clothing for this little jaunt? He was sure he wouldn’t look *too* aristocratic. Surely he’d be beneath anyone’s notice. 

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he dressed impeccably in his white linen undershirt, his cream silk overshirt with the fluffy collar, his ivory waistcoat embroidered with gold filigree with matching trousers. No.. not conspicuous at all. He sized himself up in the mirror. This outfit was guaranteed to get him into some trouble that only a lonely demon who hadn’t seen him in a while could get him out of, and nodded in satisfaction at his dashing reflection. 

It was indeed shockingly quickly that he found himself installed in a musty dungeon cell, shackled at the wrists by heavy chains and promised by the guard that he’d be escorted to the guillotine within the hour.  _ My.. that certainly didn’t take long _ , he thought, with just a minor pang of anxiety. He certainly hoped Crowley was nearby. It would take multiple minor miracles to get out of this by himself, and he’d be damned if he’d be discorporated over a foolish jaunt to get the attention of a handsome demon with yellow eyes. 

He heard screams coming from the cell window, tiny and barred and high up on the wall so that blessedly he didn’t have to see any of the carnage that was transpiring outside. “Animals” he said to himself with disapproval. 

He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised to hear the angel’s deep warm voice behind him the minute the guard had left the cell. “Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines angel, only humans do that”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale breathed. He was afraid his voice was a bit too eager and full of joy as he swung around to behold the demon, draped in a dark, rust colored jacket, black shades firmly in place, lounging in a painfully alluring way against a stone ledge in the corner of Azirpahle’s cell. The sight of Crowley after such a long time did a number of very interesting things to Aziraphale’s anatomy. His temperature spiked, his eyes dilated, and suddenly, he found it a bit harder to breath. The threat of execution had caused him nary a flutter, and yet just the mere sight of the demon made his pulse race. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam swiftly over Crowley’s slender legs, finely boned hands and handsome face, but he tried desperately to cover his sudden nerves by exclaiming “Oh good  _ lord _ ”, as if he were generally disapproving of the demon’s presence.. Even if his face, his body and his voice tone completely contradicted his words. 

If Crowley noticed the pure, unadulterated yearning in Aziraphale’s eyes, he didn’t let on. “What the deuce are you doing, locked up in the bastille?” he drawled. Half disapproving, half almost sounding impressed. “I thought you were opening a bookshop!”

“Well I  _ was _ ” Aziraphale pouted. “I got peckish”

Crowley’s finely shaped eyebrows crept up over his dark shades in incredulity… though to be fair, not much incredulity as Aziraphale’s willingness to do all manner of things for good food had already been strongly impressed upon him. “Peckish?” he repeated.

_ I think he’s going to buy it _ though Aziraphale with a twinge of excitement. “Well if you must know” he continued, trying very hard to sound off hand “it was the crepes. Can’t get decent one’s anywhere but Paris. And the brioche.” He shot Crowley a look of pure innocence as he sat back down on the cell’s small, wooden bench, chains rattling pathetically. 

"So you just popped across the channel, during a revolution, because you wanted something to nibble. Dressed like that?" stated Crowley in a tone simply coated with cynicism. 

“I’d heard they were getting a bit carried away over here but - “

“This is not getting carried away.” Crowley cut Aziraphale off. “This is cutting off a lot of people’s heads very efficiently with a big head cutting machine. Why don’t you just perform another miracle and go home?” A slightly interrogatory tone had entered his voice that made Aziraphale nervous. 

“I was reprimanded last month for performing too many frivolous miracles” lied Aziraphale. It was only a small lie really. Gabriel had sent him a strongly worded memo about something else, his time spent in restaurants… not about too many frivolous miracles, but Crowley didn’t have to know that. Aziraphale hated lying, but this whole thing needed to look natural and he needed plausible deniability. 

______________________________________________

Crowley had sensed that the angel was in some sort of trouble from the moment he’d woken up from a nap on the other side of France, earlier that day. He could feel Aziraphale, no matter where he was.. Could sense his heat and his glow somehow. He couldn’t read the angle’s mind, or see him visually (which was some small comfort), but he had seemed over the decades and centuries, to have developed a sixth “angel sense” as it were. So when Aziraphale had been tossed in that dungeon in Paris, Crowley had somehow felt his concern and had decided it was time to saunter on over to pay Aziraphale a visit. 

He’d only spent the past hundred years or so staying away because he didn’t have enough of an excuse to pop in. And he  _ needed _ an excuse. It could be a relatively flimsy excuse, but there had to be one. He couldn’t simply stop by just because he  _ missed _ the angel. That would never do. It was too familiar, too fond, too warm for Crowley’s taste. He had started feeling very warm indeed towards the nervous angel with the glowing smile and halo of white blond hair, and wasn’t sure what to do about it. So he’d orchestrated little meetings that put himself in Aziraphale’s path over the millennia, until he’d managed to forge a delicate friendship with the silly but bewitching creature. He was now pretty hopelessly in love with Aziraphale, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself yet. But he still had his pride as a demon. Demon’s didn’t fall for angels. It simply wasn’t done. And he was still very nervous about what might happen to them if their opposing supervisors found out about this tenuous and enjoyable connection they’d forged together. 

So when he’d sensed Aziraphale in distress, he’d miracled his way into that cell in the Bastille in record time. He covered for how immediately he’d come running by striking up an extremely languid and casual pose as he’d lounged on the stone outcropping, waiting for the angle to turn and see him. 

At the sight of Aziraphale’s face, suffused with joy at the sight of him, Crowley almost lost his composure. Luckily, he’d had quite a few centuries practice with keeping his feelings carefully hidden behind a cynical sneer and pair of black shades. He barely blinked as he heard the angel’s story about what had transpired. 

Pretty quickly though, he’d picked up on something off with the angel’s story. Why was he here, dressed like a cream colored peacock during the French revolution looking for crepes of all things? It was a reckless jaunt to take, and Aziraphale wasn’t usually the reckless type. He usually left that up to Crowley, who reveled in causing confusion and making messes. Aziraphale was more the hurry-up-and-drink-your-tea-before-it-gets-cold type. Not the walk-into-a-war-zone-wearing-the-enemy’s-uniform type.  _ Interesting  _

As the angel’s story continued, Crowley grew more and more incredulous. Why ever though would Aziraphale purposefully put himself in a potentially dangerous situation. 

And then, with shock and not a small amount of joy, he understood. 

_ It’s because he knows I’ll come running  _ The thought echoed through Crowley’s brain, leaving fiery footprints in its wake. Could it possibly be true? He dared to hope. That the angel could possibly have missed him too. Maybe he’d hatched up this ludicrous affair just to get Crowley’s attention? It made sense. The ridiculousness of wandering over to France during the revolution. The excuse that it was all about crepes. Yes, Aziraphale was notoriously fond of French pastries, but this was beyond, even for him. 

Suddenly, all of the angle’s shy looks and soft inflections took on a different meaning. Crowley kept his face carefully expressionless while he internally jumped for joy at the possibility that the angel had been purposefully flirting with him. But how could he be sure? 

“you’re lucky I was in the area” he added an extra drawl to the words.. A bit of a devilish tone to test Aziraphale, and was pleased when the angel responded with a playful “I suppose  _ I am _ ”. 

Crowley could feel a grin, lopsided and devious make its way slowly across his face. “Angel” he said, with a voice suddenly as velvety smooth and as soft as the melted chocolate inside one of Azirphale’s favorite desserts. “Did you really get yourself in this heap of trouble because you wanted crepes? Are you sure it wasn’t because you missed me?”

He was rewarded by Aziraphale’s instant blush, which colored his pale cheeks attractively. The angel immediately cast his large hazel eyes down to the dust and straw covered floor of the jail cell. “I have no idea what you’re referring to Crowley” he said quickly. “It was simple trip for a bite to eat and it went south. That’s all”. 

“Are you sure about that angel?” Crowley let a teasing note trickle into his voice. Inwardly, he felt his body temperature rise at the thought that Aziraphale had done something as devious as tricking him into coming to his rescue. It was flattering and thrilling and he loved it. He’d been hiding his feelings for the angel for so very long now. It was hard work. A constant struggle any time they were together. To keep cool and calm on the outside while he burned on the inside. Having Aziraphale take a step closer in this achingly slow dance they were sharing was exciting. “I think maybe you haven’t been all that honest with me”. 

With that, Aziraphale’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with shock. “I’m an angel Crowley! We don’t lie!”. But then almost immediately, he contradicted himself “Well.. that’s not technically true. We lie sometimes. To protect others… or ourselves” he finished, casting a shy look at Crowley’s direction. His large, beautiful hazel eyes were shining in the torchlight of the cell. Crowley felt his heart beat double time, but he carefully controlled his demeanor to keep it one of casual detachment.

“So…” Crowley drawled, unfolding himself languidly from where he’d been sitting.. “Who are you protecting now? Me? Or you?” He deliberately removed his glasses and slowly started walking towards Aziraphale with that tell tale snake swing in his hips. He simultaneously snapped his fingers and the roaring of the angry crowd, their lustful, anguished voices outside the window, abruptly ceased. “We’re alone now angel” he let a slightly threatening tone creep into his voice. But instead of violence, like the kind that had only recently been going on in the square outside, it threatened something far softer, far more enjoyable. 

His actions had the desired effect. Aziraphale immediately shot shakily to his feet, a look of mild surprise and alarm on his face. As Crowley advanced on him, he stumbled back a few steps, a blush slowly spreading across his face, like the evening sunset over a pale tundra. Crowley’s grin deepened. He was going to enjoy this…

________________________________________________________

_ Oh no oh no oh no oh no  _ Thought Aziraphale with alarm as Crowley slowly, seductively sauntered towards him. This was not going the way he’d planned.  _ Well _ , he inwardly corrected himself.. Not  _ exactly _ as planned. He’d meant to gently manipulate Crowley into coming to his aid, and perhaps talk him into going to lunch. But now, things had gone… rather sideways. He’d been found out. Crowley had seen through him like a paper thin sheet of filo dough. (even Aziraphale’s inner metaphors were dessert related). And here he was, alone with a devious demon, in a dungeon, with shackles still clamped around his wrists. A demon who was at this moment, sauntering towards him with the most determined and unsettling look in his sharp yellow eyes. 

Aziraphale gulped and took a few halting steps backwards, only to feel himself come up against the stone wall of the dungeon. _ Darn it all! _ He thought with mild alarm.  _ Trapped! _

Crowley closed the distance between them and stood close, pinning him to the wall with his golden gaze, just as surely as if he’d been shackled to it. Aziraphale could feel his pulse pounding in his wrists and temples, his breath coming a bit faster.  _ His wrists! _ He suddenly remembered the chains that connected him to the iron hook in the middle of the cell floor. 

  
Fixing Crowley with what he hoped was an innocent and imploring look, he raised his joined hands, the movement accompanied by the gentle clink of rusty chains. “C-Crowley” he stuttered uncertainly. “Don’t you think its about time you took these off?” He couldn’t very well remove them himself, or he’d have to cop to the lie that he’d been reprimanded for  _ frivolous miracles _ . Also... if he were completely honest with himself, he was thrilled at the idea that it was Crowley who had come to his rescue and he needed  _ Crowley _ to be the one to remove the chains around his wrists. He wasn’t consciously aware of why this needed to be the case. It just felt right. He suddenly felt helpless at the demon’s closeness and he  _ liked _ that feeling, in a way he couldn’t describe yet. 

Crowley smiled devilishly (could he smile any other way?) and shook his head gently. “No angel. I’m not releasing you yet. You still have some explaining to do about exactly  _ why  _ it is that you got yourself into this mess in the first place.” He took another half step closer to Aziraphale, forcing the angel to lean back into the wall. “You’ve been rather careless, and your only excuse so far as been crepe related”. 

Aziraphale was well and truly flustered now. He could feel his face burning, his pulse racing. Why was Crowley teasing him so mercelously? He’d never behaved this way before. Sure, he often delighted in gently mocking Aziraphale when they were together. But never with  _ this tone _ of languid authority to his voice. Never with the hot, intent look the demon was fixing him with in this moment. He gulped audibly. Crowley being this close, this relentlessly focused on him was having a strong effect. He could feel himself becoming incredibly aroused, could feel his body tingle with anticipation.. Of what? He couldn’t yet say. His clothing, once perfectly comfortable, had started to feel restrictive, especially in his groin area where he was mortified to realize he’d developed a raging erection. 

“Crowley, I…I” He stammered, trying to come up with something coherent to say. “I was simply hungry, I swear. I,... I knew of this little shop in the bakery district that makes the most heavenly crepes, and.. And I thought I’d just pop over and have some.”

  
“Wearing  _ all that _ ?” Crowley’s eyes flickered slowly down the length of Aziraphale’s body, taking in his embroidered, filigreed, buttoned up and impossibly frilly ensemble with what Aziraphale could clearly see was lurid interest. 

“ _ Admit it angel _ ” he’d returned his yellow eyes, shining with devious mischief back up to meet Aziraphale’s wide blue green gaze. “Admit that you set this whole thing up as an excuse to see me. Because you missssed me”, a sibilant hiss accompanied his words that made Aziraphale’s knees threaten to buckle under him. Crowley reached up and ran a cool, soft fingertip down the side of Aziraphale’s furiously blushing face. Aziraphale felt his eyes flutter closed and his breath quicken at the demon’s soft touch. 

“I… well… it has been a while since I’ve seen you” admitted Aziraphale. He was finding it difficult to speak coherently, let alone do the mental work of keeping a thinly constructed facade about his motives in place. “But Crowley… I’d really be much more comfortable if you’d remove these shackles. Then we could go get some lunch.. Somewhere away from here. Wouldn’t that be preferable?” He raised imploring eyes to the demon’s face. 

“Not until you admit that you did this all just to see me again” growled Crowley. And with that, he snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the chains that bound Aziraphale to the floor were instead attached to the wooden rafters above their heads. This pulled Aziraphale’s arms up at an angle, not straight up, but still angled towards the ceiling, as if he were reaching to pluck something from a shelf, just above his head. Aziraphale gasped in surprise as Crowley ducked under, and then between his now raised and still shackled arms. This brought his body up against Aziraphale’s and his face only centimeters away from the angel’s surprised face, immediately putting them into the position of lovers in a slow dance. Aziraphale was left just enough slack to let his elbows rest on Crowley’s slender shoulders. 

“Crowley!” he had the time to cry out in surprise before the demon’s mouth descended on his in a gentle kiss. Aziraphale felt his insides twist deliciously at the feel of the demons soft lips on his own. He felt Crowley’s hands slide around his waist to make the slow dance embrace a complete one. Felt the demon’s arms tighten around him. Even if he’d wanted to pull away from the kiss, his head had nowhere to go, as it was pressed up against the rough stone of the dungeon wall. But he didn’t want to pull away. Not at all. 

Crowley pulled back far enough to fix Aziraphale with another one of his searching looks. His breath was also coming faster. “Come on angel. Tell me you missed me. I’ve missed  _ you _ ”

Aziraphale’s head was spinning with desire. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes, wide and luminous, dark in the dim torchlight, “you… you have?” he breathed, eyes flicking from Crowley’s yellow and black gaze, down to his soft lips and back again, like a man dying of thirst would search for water. 

“Yessss” hissed Crowely. As he spoke, he reached his hands under Aziraphale’s ornate jacket and slowly began caressing the angel’s sides and low back through the layers of his finely tailored shirts with gentle, searching touches that made Aziraphale gasp. “I’ve missed you  _ very _ much” the demon purred, and then he pressed his pelvis into Aziraphale’s with a slow and deliberate pressure. Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s rock hard cock press into his own straining erection and he felt his eyes drift close, his mouth fall open and heard a sound he could barely recognize come out of him… part groan, part sigh, part supplication. 

“Can you feel how much I’ve missed you?” he heard Crowley’s velvet voice whisper to him, his mouth inches from Aziraphale’s own. 

  
  


________________________________________________________

Crowley knew he should slow down. He’d only meant to gently tease Aziraphale about his see-through ruse, to make the angel nervous… to embarrass him a bit. He’d also expected Aziraphale to fold and admit to his little game pretty much immediately. To laugh it off and invite Crowley to lunch in an offhand way that would stop Crowley from going further. 

Well, that hadn’t happened at all. Instead Aziraphale had bent to his will in the most delicious and enticing way possible. Had stumbled back against the wall, his handsome face, blushing prettily. Had let Crowely see his fast breath… let Crowley sense his speeding pulse. It was intoxicating and Crowley could not help but to push it further. Now, he was pressed up against the angel, Aziraphale’s arms about his shoulders like a lover’s embrace, and he was watching from inches away as the angel came completely undone under his touch. It was almost too much. He felt his heart pounding and his body temperature spike at the proximity of the angel’s intense heat. In addition, he’d admitted to missing Aziraphale.  _ It was spoken.. It was out. It couldn’t be taken back now.  _

He moved his hands from around Aziraphale’s back and brought them up to frame the angel’s flushed and lovely face, saw the angel’s eyes flutter open to fix him with a look of pure, unbridled need, and sank into another kiss, his open mouth pressed to Aziraphale’s, his hot tongue sliding deliciously against Aziraphale’s tongue. A deep moan echoed from inside him, and he heard an answering moan, helpless and high pitched issue from Aziraphale’s throat as the angel completely melted into the kiss. 

They broke apart and Crowley, breathless and intent, asked again. “You missed me too didn’t you  _ angel _ ?” He infused the pet name with all the passion and love he’d kept from his voice the thousand other times he’d said it before now. “Angel” really meant “ _ beloved _ ”, really meant “ _ dearest _ ”, but he had never been able to say that before, so he simply said “angel”... as often as he possibly could when they were together. 

“Y - yes!” breathed Aziraphale, panted, eyes shining, beautiful lips parted, still wet with Crowley’s saliva. “Yes I did.  _ Very much _ .”

Crowley felt his heart leap in his chest and he swiftly kissed Aziraphale again, soundly, deeply and with deliberate passion. He ground himself against Aziraphale’s hot length and was rewarded with another deep groan from the angel. He broke the kiss and whispered into the angel’s open mouth.. Their eyes locked together.. words that almost felt pulled from him by Aziraphale’s magnetic need… by his closeness. He couldn’t stop himself. “I’ve thought of you so often… I’ve thought of this.. Of doing this with you more times than I can count. I am… I am…  _ helpless _ around you. I try to hide it, but it’s so… very… hard.. “ saying this he punctuated his words with another roll of his narrow hips against the angel’s soft pelvis, felt them move together with a delicious friction that threatened to push him over the edge. 

__________________________________________________________________

“Oh Crowley” breathed Aziraphale. “Oh my dearest..” his voice suffused with passion at the feeling of Crowley moving against him in this scandalously intimate way. In a way that made sparks of pleasure explode from deep inside his core. “I did get myself into this mess just to see you. I ha.. Had to see you. It had been so long. I was growing desperate.” He reflexively tried to move his hands to touch Crowley, and realized that he was still shackled. “Please” he begged. “Please remove the shackles Crowley. I need to touch you back. I need it”, He let his luminous eyes, dilated and shining search the demon’s face imploringly. “ _ Please _ ”

The demon smiled his wicked smile again and shook his head gently. “No my angel. Not yet. You’ve got yourself into this mess, and now you have to deal with the consequences.” And with that, he sank to his knees. Looking up at Aziraphale with a hot intensity, he slowly started to work at the ivory colored laces at the top of Aziraphale’s trousers. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure he could take much more of this torture. He felt as if he were seconds away from exploding. The sight of the dark clad demon, yellow eyes flashing, on his knees, deftly working to unlace his pants was almost his undoing. “Crowely” he whispered desperately… “you can’t do this to me. Please. I can’t take it. Please remove the shackles” But inside, he knew he was lying again. His hands being bound only added an extra spark of frustrating heat to the situation. 

Crowley only grinned more broadly. His deft fingers made quick work of the laces that held Azirphale’s trousers closed, and he quickly had them loose and pulled down, along with the angel’s underpinnings. Aziraphale’s thick, pale cock sprang free from it’s confinement, and without even the slightest pause, Crowley sank his hot mouth down onto it with a groan at finally having the angel between his lips. 

Aziraphale’s mind went blank. His eyes closed and he let out a loud moan of pleasure at the feel of Crowley’s hot, hot mouth on his cock. It was quite possibly the most profoundly pleasurable feeling he’d experienced in his 6,000 years on earth. He gasped as Crowley began to move his mouth, achingly slowly back and forth along Aziraphale’s length, applying a gentle suction that made Aziraphale’s eyes roll skyward. “Oh god!, Oh dear god!” he exclaimed loudly, immediately trying to cover his blasphemous mouth with his hands, and was again reminded with deep frustration that they were still shackled and raised to the ceiling. He was completely vulnerable. His hands tied, his back against a wall. He had nowhere to hide. No way to stop the desperate noises issuing from his throat as Crowley worked slowly and deliberately at his aching cock with his searing hot mouth and slick tongue. 

“Crowley p-please” he begged again. “Please don’t do this to me. Don’t make me come apart like this in f- front of you.” He had to work to get the words out, breathlessly against a backdrop of intense pleasure. 

Crowley stopped sucking him just long enough undo his own tight trousers and take his own rock hard cock in his hand. He looked up at Aziraphale, who was gazing down at him now in flustered desperation, eyes wide, mouth agape, and let that devilish grin play across his face as he began to stroke himself slowly with one hand. With his other hand, he took possession of Aziraphale’s cock again. “You don’t mean that angel” he said between passionate gasps, his breath coming quicker. “You love this and you know it”. And with that, he sank his mouth back down onto Aziraphale’s straining cock with renewed fervor. His hand pumped his own cock in the same slow and deliberate rhythm his lips were setting against Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale surrendered. He couldn’t fight it anymore. 

“Yes..” he breathed. “Yes… I  _ do _ love it. I do.” a moan escaped his lips as Crowley did something delicate yet breathtaking effective with his long tongue against the head of the angel’s cock. “Oh dear lord Crowley.. I … I’m  _ close”  _ he gasped helplessly, pulling down on his shackled hands in a useless and unconscious attempt to wrap his fingers in Crowley’s hair. “I won’t last mu- much longer”. He kept his eyes trained on Crowley, who lasciviously, shamelessly met his gaze as he continued slowly working Aziraphale in that same tortuously steady rhythm. He saw Crowley’s hand move at that same pace on his own cock, long and beautiful, and the sight pushed him to the brink of losing control.

He heard an answering groan of encouragement from Crowley and let his eyes flutter closed as he felt his orgasm finally overtake him. Waves of intense, almost-painful pleasure coursed through him as he came, hard, exploding into Crowley’s welcoming mouth. He heard the demon's rhythmic, high pitched moans against his cock as he too was pushed over the edge by the sound of Aziraphale’s pleasure into an intense orgasm of his own. 

________________________________________________________

Crowley let Aziraphale’s cock, slick and still half hard slide from his lips as he brought his hand up to lick his own semen from his sticky fingers, delighting as the taste of the two of them mingled in his mouth. He quickly miracled away the rest of the evidence of their passion and stood to capture Aziraphale’s open, still gasping mouth in a lingering kiss. Letting the angel taste himself on Crowley’s lips. He pulled back just long enough to look the angel in the eyes and give him another sly grin. Then he stepped back, free of the angel's embrace, snapped his fingers again and the shackles that bound Aziraphale’s wrists clattered loudly to the floor. Aziraphale, shooting the demon a deeply disapproving look, made suddenly ridiculously ineffective by how flushed and clearly ruined he’d been by the demon’s ministrations, quickly worked to do his pants up again. He was blushing furiously and dropped his gaze to the floor, resolutely refusing to look at Crowley. 

Crowley did himself up quickly and ran a smoothing hand over his clothes to make himself presentable. He snapped his fingers once more and the clamor from outside the window picked up again. The moment was over. 

“I believe you mentioned taking me to lunch” he said in a carefully casual tone, while carefully refolding the silver buttoned cuff on his dark red jacket. He saw Aziraphale’s head come up in surprise, saw the angel’s look of understanding, that his was an isolated event that was now over. Back to business as usual. His eyes echoed with what might have been deep disappointment, before he hid the look by busying himself with straightening his many layers of brocade and starched linen. 

“I didn’t actually” he muttered primly. “But I’d be happy to, as you’ve so kindly… come to my rescue” he raised a ironic eyebrow in Crowley’s direction as the demon replaced his dark shades. 

“You can’t go anywhere dressed like that” remarked Crowley archly. Aziraphale, with a roll of his eyes, waved his hand in a flourish and he was suddenly his aristocratic finery was replaced with the dark blue coat and French sash of the proletariat. 

Silently they walked together out of the now unlocked cell doors and off to lunch. Neither spoke of what had just transpired. It was an agreed upon silence. They had a rather lovely lunch together, laughing a bit louder than usual, holding one another's gaze a bit longer than was necessary, sensing that their bond had deepened exponentially, but neither acting on it again. 

The next time they’d meet would be in St. James park, where Crowley would have a shocking request for Aziraphale that had nothing whatsoever to do with passion. 


End file.
